


Batting Practice

by quiteanerdling



Series: Major League [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Little League AU, Prequel, Wakes & Funerals, single dad Bull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteanerdling/pseuds/quiteanerdling
Summary: Small stories set in the Run Home universe.





	1. Leading the Charge

When Cullen asks him if he’d like to bring Krem to a baseball game in Redcliffe, Bull mostly agrees out of pity. Dorian would sooner wear plaidweave in public than go to a baseball game, or almost any kind of sporting event, and he’s sure Cullen doesn’t want to go on his own. Bull himself is fairly ambivalent to baseball, which doesn’t have nearly enough physical contact or risk of injury to really hold his attention, but he likes to give Krem new experiences. Plus he loves a good stadium hot dog or five.

Krem is excited to go to a new place, and even more excited to eat ludicrously overpriced garlic fries, one of the few foods with flavor that Fereldans have actually embraced. The stadium is so new it’s practically shiny, one of Bann Teagan’s major projects to attract more people and money to the city. It’s built high up on the eponymous cliff, with amazing views of Lake Calenhad, so even if the game is boring he can admire the scenery. They get to the stadium early enough to let Krem explore before they settle into their seats. When his son (and isn’t that a crazy thought - three months after the official adoption and Bull is still reeling) admires a Redcliffe Lions baseball cap, Bull buys one for him on the spot and plops it down on his shiny brown hair. Krem’s pleased grin is enough to make the trip worth it for Bull.

He expects that once the initial excitement wears off, Krem will probably get bored with the game, but he’s a well behaved kid, so he won’t complain. Bull figures he can take him for breaks to wander around if he gets antsy, so that Cullen can enjoy the game. To his surprise, the exact opposite happens - Krem forgets about his fries, his cracker jack, and the giant soda he got because it’s a special occasion, and watches the game with the kind of focus Bull has only ever seen him give to live cooking demonstrations. Cullen had given him a basic rundown of the rules, but Krem starts asking questions almost immediately, wanting to know about the players, and their positions, and what they’re doing. Cullen is obviously delighted to have someone to talk to about the game, and even Bull finds himself drawn in with renewed interest, seeing the game through Krem’s eyes.

His little dude makes it through the whole game, cheering excitedly whenever the Lions score, which is seven times total, a tidy win over the Ostagar Ospreys, who barely avoid a shut-out with a single run. On the way out they snag a team pennant for Krem’s wall, and his brown eyes get so bright it makes Bull’s chest ache. Cullen and Krem keep up a steady stream of chatter as they wind their way through the milling crowds back to Bull’s truck. Once they’re on the road though, not even the excitement of the afternoon can keep the kid awake. He falls asleep against Cullen, his cap askew, his pennant clutched in his small hands. He’s so cute Bull can barely look at him.

He and Cullen drive along in comfortable silence, making good time once they finally reach the outskirts of the city and get on the freeway back toward Haven. 

“You know,” Cullen interjects into the silence after a while, “Haven has a pretty robust Little League division. Krem will be old enough to play soon. And didn’t Mari play tee ball for a while?”

“Ha, yeah, right up until Herah head butted the coach for making her cry. Gave the guy a concussion.” 

Cullen lets out a sharp laugh. “I forgot about that. He’s just lucky Josephine didn’t have him assassinated.”

“That’s for sure.” They fall back into silence as Bull considers the possibility. He’s not entirely sure how Krem might take to team sports. He’s made quite a few friends over the past couple years, but there are still a lot of prejudices they both deal with. Finding the right team might be a challenge, and it’s probably a pretty big time commitment, but if his interest in baseball lasts it could be fun for him. Bull’s at least willing to check it out and see if Krem likes the idea. Adaar might be willing to let Mari give it a chance, and maybe they can be on a team together. Krem loves spending time with Mari, so that would be an added bonus.

“Little League,” he says out loud after a few more minutes of consideration. “Gotta say, that’s sure as shit not something I ever expected to be thinking about as part of my life. I couldn’t have even told you what it _was_ a decade ago.”

“I know what you mean.” Cullen says with a rueful chuckle. If any of Bull’s friends have an inkling of just how fucking weird the transition from a life of military service to a life of suburban mundanity is, it’s the ex-Templar.

“Could be fun though. I’ll give it some thought.” He glances down at Krem and his small baseball cap and smiles. Whatever his little dude wants, Bull intends to make sure he gets, even if he has to build the right team himself.


	2. The Comet's Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral of Bastien de Ghislain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this scene in my head for a long time, but decided to actually write it for Vivienne Appreciation Week on Tumblr, because we all know she doesn't get nearly enough love. I suppose it's a bit weird to go with something so sad for her appreciation week, but her grief in the scene where Bastien dies has always stuck with me. I thought she deserved a chance to mourn and be comforted.

Bastien de Ghislain’s funeral is, like Orlais itself, extravagant, over the top, and deeply political. In fact, calling it a funeral is a bit like calling a dreadnaught a row boat. It’s emcompases a full week of obscure Chantry ceremonies, dedications, and memorials that are nothing but unusually subdued parties thrown by politically important people in honor of the deceased. Bull is very glad he left Krem in Haven with his friends, because no kid needs to sit through this kind of macabre shit.

Vivienne navigates through through all of it with such poise and elegance that Bull can already hear the rumors circling about how cold and calculating she is. And she certainly can be - Bull is certain she intends to use Bastien’s death to take down some of his political rivals, and she’d be stupid not to. But there are moments when he can see the strain she’s under, see tiny cracks in a facade that usually puts the gilded gates of the Winter Palace to shame. 

Bull stays close to her the entire week, attending a whirlwind of events that serve to remind him just how fucked up Orlesian high society is. The story is that he’s come out of retirement to serve as Vivienne’s personal bodyguard in this trying time. Since he’d been Bastien’s bodyguard and head of security for years, it doesn’t garner surprise, though it does garner speculation. No doubt she has a plan to turn that to her advantage as well - Vivienne stays at least three moves ahead of her opponents at all times.

His position as Bastien’s bodyguard had once been a handy political fiction, but when he had left the Qun it became a lifeline to order, and a job he took very seriously. It’s strange to be back in that role, dressed all in black, standing silent, watchful, and armed to the teeth. It feels hollow now, a useless gesture of defiance in the face of an enemy that’s already won. 

Bastien is gone and none of Bull’s weapons could have protected him from the combined forces of time and illness. Even Vivienne, with all her power, both arcane and political, hadn’t been able to stand against them. Not that she hadn’t tried - she’d tried over and over and over again, until she’d built a pharmaceutical empire and Bull had begun to worry she’d drive _herself_ strait to an early grave. 

The White Divine herself presides over the final ceremony as Bastien’s ashes are enshrined in the the Ghislain mausoleum beside the remains of his first wife. Bull wonders if Vivienne plans to join them in death the way she did in life, or if she has a different resting place in mind when the time comes. The way _bas_ obsess over death still confuses him - he can grasp it intellectually, but he doesn’t really _understand_ it. Why revere a pile of ash when the spirit of the man it once comprised is now gone?

When the ceremony is over, when the last of the visiting mourners have left, or returned to rooms in the massive estate, Bull performs a circuit of Vivienne’s chambers. It’s totally unnecessary - they’re warded so heavily it would take a small army to get inside - but old habits die hard. When he’s finished he finds her standing in front of the glass doors leading to the huge balcony. That balcony _still_ makes him twitch over how stupidly difficult it is to secure. 

“I’m glad you left Cremisus in Haven,” Vivienne says, and she sounds a bit tired, meaning she’s completely exhausted.

“Me too, ma’am. I always forget how fucking terrible Orlesians are.”

Vivienne laughs, though it's an amusement as dark as the night sky. “Utterly so,” she agrees. “But Tevinter is worse and there’s no point amassing political power in Ferelden.”

“Got me there.” Bull likes living in Haven more than he expected, likes being retired a _lot_ more than he expected, but there’s no denying Ferelden is still a backwater, especially politically. They stand in comfortable silence for a while, Bull watching the lights play over the grand fountain below, water enchanted to subtly shift its patterns over time, dancing to its own strange rhythm. It’s breathtakingly beautiful and creepy as shit. Turning away from the eerie sight, he glances at Vivienne, and decides it’s time.

“Krem and I wanted to give you something, but I wanted to wait until things settled down a little. If you’re not too tired I’ll grab it and then let you get some rest.”

Vivienne gives him a small smile and nods. “That would be lovely darling.”

When he returns with his small package, Vivienne hasn’t moved. The lights of the courtyard and fountain leave her in silhouette, tall and shapely. She's changed clothes three times today, adjusting to the formality of each of the day's events. The cut of her current dress is simple and conservative, heavy black fabric draped beautifully around her. Simple as it is, it probably cost more than most people make in a year.

She doesn't look over her shoulder when he comes in, even though her wards will have made her aware of his presence. Only when he's standing next to her does she turn to look at him, tilting her head in inquiry.

He holds out the package with a little smile. "Krem found out it's traditional to send flowers when someone dies, but he doesn't like that idea because then people just end up with dead flowers."

Vivienne gives a startled laugh, genuine and warm. "Oh that clever boy. Bastien found him so delightful."

"Yeah, well we both know Bastien had good taste." Bull gives her a wink and she shakes her head, a comfortable and familiar exchange. "Anyway, when I asked him what he thought we should give you instead, this is what he chose." 

He holds out the small gift and Vivienne takes it from him and begins to carefully unwrap it. Inside is a photo in a beautifully painted frame, a style traditional to Rivain. Her breath catches when he sees the picture and her hands actually tremble. 

Bull took the picture himself, the night he introduced Krem to Bastien for the first time. Krem had been nervous, but Bastien was as patient as an Andrastian saint and twice as shrewd. When he'd noticed Krem staring at one of the antique masks on display in the sitting room, he'd taken them all out of their glass case and let Krem hold each one, telling tales about the people they had belonged to. In the photo they’re caught in a beautiful tableau: Bastien sits before the fire, telling a centuries old tale of danger and intrigue, elegant hands raised for emphasis. Krem stands small and sturdy before him, holding a silver half mask in the shape of dragon wings, watching Bastien with eyes wide as saucers. In the background Vivienne stands, relaxed and elegant, smiling down at them indulgently.

"Oh," Vivienne says, and even though the word is short, he can hear the anguish and longing in it. "Oh Bull."

She closes her eyes and reaches toward him blindly until he takes her hand, which is still shaking. He squeezes very gently, a little startled by how fragile her hand feels in his, fingers slender and delicate. A tear slides down her cheek, leaving behind a glittering wake. 

"I knew the time was coming," she whispers, her voice heavy with tears. "I knew, yet ‘til the very end I was convinced I could save him, that I would find a way no matter what it took."

"Wouldn't be much like you to give up," he points out.

"No it wouldn't." She doesn't open her eyes, but tilts her head back, letting the tears fall as they will. "Bastien said he didn't think even _my_ ambition would be enough to thwart death, but he would enjoy watching me try. _Ridiculous_ man."

The little laugh she gives is cut off with a sob, and she clutches Bull's hand with a strength that belies his earlier sense of her fragility. Vivienne de Fer is not a woman anyone would describe as fragile, but even the strongest people can falter under the ineffable burden of grief. When most people look at Vivienne they see only what she intends them to - icy, imperturbable brilliance, and a will of iron.

Bastien de Ghislain had seen something different. He’d seen a beautiful, fiery comet crossing the sky and dared to reach out and touch it. That touch had changed Vivienne - with Bastien she had burned brighter, flown further, blazed through the firmament of Orlesian society, and left behind a glittering wake that changed the very shape of the sky. 

Nothing will stop Vivienne from blazing her way through life, but now the sky she crosses will be darker and more dangerous, the night colder and more vast. 

Bull stands in silence beside her, holding her hand and guarding her sorrow. Above them, stars spin slowly through the sky, waiting patiently to fall, and to rise again. Maybe, if the humans are right, Bastien waits with them, watching for Vivienne’s light to burn across his sky once again.


End file.
